


Demons

by Never laugh at a live Sherlock (smaugholmeswatson)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dark Sherlock, Evil Sherlock, Gen, Hearing Voices, Jekyll and Hyde, Khanlock, The voices are real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-12
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-01-15 12:01:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1304170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smaugholmeswatson/pseuds/Never%20laugh%20at%20a%20live%20Sherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Khanlock.<br/>Moriarty experiments on Sherlock and inadvertently creates a monster that puts everybody the detective cares about in danger. </p><p>"Don't get too close,<br/>it's dark inside,<br/>Its where my demons hide,<br/>Its where my demons hide."<br/>Demons by Imagine Dragons</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Laboratory

The usually silent laboratory was alive with activity despite the lateness of the hour. Technicians hurried through carrying test tube racks and other pieces of equipment while several scientists hovered about clutching clipboards. In the very centre of the room a surgical team prepper the subject strapped to the operation table. The scene was infused with an atomsphere of barely organised chaos with the feeling that no-one was one hundred per cent sure what they were doing. Throughout it all, like the calm at the centre of a hurricane, the man in the exquisitly tailored Westwood suit watched the action unfolding around him from where he leant against a highly steralised surface with disinterest. All of this had been much too easy and there was no sense of satisfaction or enjoyment in the grand finale. The man yawned and stretched, the simple movement making several of the Technicians flinch away from him. He ignored them, having no time for those weak minded individuals, and walked over to the surgical team. Instantly everyone in the lab froze. The man smiled, enjoying the attention. 

“Is he ready yet?” The man asked softly in his lilting accent, adding an exasperated sigh for good measure. 

The head of the surgical team glanced up from where he was securing the last strap, cautious of how to reply to some one whose moods were so changable. 

“Well?” promped the man, a manic gleam in his eyes. "Aren't you going to answer?" 

A shiver ran down the lead surgeons spine and he was forced to advert his gaze from the man's emotionless grey eyes. “Almost ready. We're just waiting for him to regain consciousness so the serum will work properly.” 

The man regarded him intently for a moment before nodding and turning his attention to the man strapped to the table whose face, for now at least, was serene and untroubled. He leant over so his face was inches from the subject's and considered what he was about to do. To some people it would appear cruel but in the name of science and human experiments the whole thing would prove fascinating. The subject's eyes opened. At first he seemed unable to focus, the blue eyes hazy and indistinct, but he quickly came to his senses when he saw who was leaning over him. 

“Moriarty?” He croaked, his voice cracking with misuse as he struggled weakly against his bonds. “I thought you were dead.”

Moriarty grinned widely as he reached for a pair of rubber gloves. "Hello Sherlock, awake at last I see. Scalpel please.”  
This last was directed at one of the surgical team who scrambled to pick one up from the metallic tray. They promptly dropped it with a loud clatter. Moriaty sighed loudly and rolled his eyes. "Why am I surrounded by fools?” He muttered darkly under his breath, positioning the scalpel at the top of Sherlock's sternum and preparing to make an incision. "You should be able to sympathise Sherlock since I can't imagine John Watson is partically clever." He said with a wink. “This might sting a little.” Moriarty continued before pressing down on the small blade and slicing cleanly through the skin. 

Sherlock tensed, the jolt of pain more intense than he'd expected, and bit his lip to prevent a scream from escaping. The incision complete Moriarty swapped the scalpel for a syringe of black liquid that gleamed dully under the lab's bright lighting. 

"What the hell is that?" Sherlock demanded between gritted teeth. 

Moriarty ignored him and gently, almost tenderly, injected the liquid directly into the muscle of Sherlock's heart. The burning sensation started up almost straight away with wave after wave of agony sweeping over the detective, threatening to engulf him. He clenched his fists. Dimly as though through a haze he was aware of Moriarty's smug smile. He tried to curse but the only thing that escaped his mouth was a cry of pain and a few drops of blood. 

"Sssh Sherlock." Moriarty said. laying a comforting hand on his forehead. "It'll all be over soon. The first injection was just to supress those pesky emotions." 

Sherlock screamed again, this time managing a name. "JOHN!" He slumped down exhausted. Unlike other times his life had been in danger there was no one coming to help him; he was completely at Moriarty's mercy. The realisation sent despair crashing through him. He flinched when Moriarty began to stroke his forehead.

“Don't worry Sherlock, It'll all be over soon.”

Sherlock let out a weak groan as pain flared through him. Moriarty smiled and selected the second of the two syringes. Briefly Sherlock struggled against his bonds but quickly went limp. There was simply no point in fighting. He felt the syringes needle sliding into his heart and tensed as a new sensation flooded through him, consumming everything in its path. Agony engulfed him, filling him up until he was aware of nothing else. He was grateful when darkness hovered at the edges of his vision and willingly allowed himself to be swallowed by it. After that Sherlock knew no more.


	2. The new Sherlock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mild violence towards the end

Moving is agony with ever the smple act of blinking sending stabs of pain shooting through my head. A dull ache throbs in my chest everytime I breathe. Whatever Moriarty has done to me is taking a long time to wear off. Slowly I open my eyes, wincing when light sears into them and makes them sting. I turn my head and rest it against a set of bars; the coldness soothing on my aching head. Wait, that can't be right, I couldn't be in a cage could I? I shake my head telling myself that when I open my eyes I will be in the familiar surroundings of 221B. Instead I am surprised to find myself staring at stips of thin grey metal. 

"Well that's not good." I groan under my breath. What has Moriarty done to me? No matter how hard I think about my situation I am unable to come up with a solution. The realisation of how helpless I am scares me a little but I push my fears to one side. I need to keep my mind free of distraction if I'm to get out of this. A wry smile quirks up the side of my mouth. Moriarty, wherever he was, was probably finding this whole thing hilarious. 

_“Oh he definitely thinks its hilarious. He can be quite sadistic when he feels like it.”_

The voice is full of dark humour and very familiar. I frown and glance quickly about me. The room I am in appears at first glance to be empty. Maybe being tortured has caused my mind to create an alter-ego to protect it. The dull ache in my chest is more insistant and, gingerly parting my blood stained shirt, I inspect the damage Moriarty inflicted on me. A jagged, lumpy scar slices down the centre of my chest, tied together with blakc surgical thread. It is crude but will hold. At least I won't be bleeding to death any time soon. 

_“Well he didn't want to kill his big experiment did he? I expected better from the worlds only consulting detective... or are you really a fake as the newspapers were saying five years ago? The voice is mocking and sarcastic._

I glance behind me, searching for the source of the voice but again find nothing. Great, I am definatly going insane. I bury my painful head in my hands and let out a quiet groan. A small, irrational part of me wishes John could be here with me; caring for me. Thinking of my friend allows a sense of calm to wash through my throbbing brain and ease some of my panic. I breathe in deeply. There is probably a very good explanation for the seemingly random voice. I just need to work it out. 

_“Oh stop being so pathetic. John Watson isn't going to rush in and save the day Sherlock. You need to stop being so... sentimental.” says a voice with an audible sneer._

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. This is starting to become unsettling and I rub my eyes. This is beginning to feel like a very bad dream that refuses to go away. "Who are you?" I ask, feeling a little silly as I say it while also hoping I won't hear anything. “What do you want?”

_There comes a deep chuckle laced with malice. “Isn't it obvious?”_

The realisation is like a light bulb; sudden brightness flooding through my mind. The answer is so obvious I can't believe I hadn't already worked it out. The voice isn't coming from an outside force...its inside my head. It is a lot to take in all at once and I close my eyes, burying my head in my hands again.

_The voice sighs, sounding bored. “You're not much fun are you?. Why are you just sitting here when you could have escaped?" The voice demands._

I let out a humourless laugh. “I can't exactly tear through solid metal bars can I? If I could do that none of this would have happened in the first place." I feel rather than hear the smile directed at me. 

_“You just haven't unlocked your full potential. Let me take over for a while.”_

I barely have time to even consider how to reply before intense pain shoots through my skull. An involuntary gasp of pain escapes me and I curl up into a ball. It feels like someone is trying to force their way into my mind, oozing into every tiny crevice and taking over. I try to fight back but whoever the owner of the voice is is just too strong for me. Going limp I scream in agony before the white hot pain carries me away. 

* * * * 

In a small, dark room just down the corridor Moriarty sat before a bank of computer screens intently watching Sherlock's every move. There was a frown wrinkling his brow. The detective appeared to be in immense agony and was curled tightly into a small ball. The other subjects he'd experimented on had all reacted well to the serum and had quickly adjusted to having their emotions suppressed. Apparently Sherlock was finding it harder to adjust. Moriarty leant forward , his chair creaking beneath him and his hand creeping towards the panic button which would call armed guards in to terminate his experiments. He stopped himself. No, he would wait a little longer to see what happened. Morirty yawned and rested his feet up on the desk. It was going to be a long night. He was just beginning to drift off when the door slammed open behind him. 

“What the hell have you done with my brother you basted?!” The intruder bellowed. 

Lazily Moriarty stretched and let out a wide yawn. "I was wondering when you would get here Mycroft." He said with a grin. "What can I do for you?" 

Mycroft's usually calm and composed features were distorted with rage as he stood there glaring at Moriarty. "Don't be smart with me, you know what I came here for. Where is Sherlock?" He spat through gritted teeth. 

With the tip of his finger Moriarty tapped out a complicated rhythm on the desk top. "He's closer then you think." He sang, tipping Mycroft a wink. 

A look of confusion swept across Mycroft's features and he turned his attention to the computer screens. He soon spotted what Moriarty was hinting at and a gasp escaped him. On a screen halfway up was his brother locked in a tiny cage while writhing in agony. Dread washed through him. He couldn't explain how he knew but he could sense something terribly wrong was going on here. As he continued to watch Sherlock stopped moving and went limp. 

Behind him Moriarty laughed. “Oh look. I think he's dead.” 

Mycroft clenched his fists, trying desperatly to control himself. It was working up until the point he caught a glimpse of Moriarty's smug expression. With a bellow of rage he grabbed the consulting criminal by the collar and lifted him from his chair. He thought he saw a glimmer of fear in the grey eyes but it was so fleeting that he couldn't be sure. "Take me to my brother." He demanded, giving Moriarty a hard shake. 

Moriarty regarded him for a moment before holding up both hands in surrender. "Woah there Mr Hasty. You should have just asked that in the first place and saved all this violence." 

Breathing heavily Mycroft reluctantly released him and took a step back. Moriarty calmly adjusted his tie before giving him a cheerful grin. "See, thats much better isn't it? Follow me." 

The laboratory where Sherlock was being kept was only a few minutes walk and all too soon Mycroft found himself gazing at the prone, blood stained form of his younger brother through the thin bars of a tiny cage. He closed his eyes and pressed his palms against them. His poor, poor brother, how had he failed so badly to protect him? A loud bang made him jump and his eyes flew open in surprise. Moriarty was slamming a fist against the bars of the cage. 

“Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine Sherlock.” 

For a moment Sherlock didn't move and Mycroft's heart faltered but then to his relief his brother slowly sat up and raised his head. Mycroft's joy was short lived and a cold shudder ran down his back. Sherlock's blue eyes were now a deep black and filled with a burning hatred. 

_“Hello Brother mine.” Sherlock sneered, his head tilted to the side. “How kind of you to come looking for me.”_

Mycroft pressed a trembling hand to his mouth.“Oh Sherlock. What has he done to you?” 

_The sneer widened. "Why brother you should be happy for me. Moriarty has done nothing but improve me." He said, reaching forward and easily tearing sveral of the cage's bars out of their sockets before tossing them to one side. It left a gap just big enough for him to squeeze through._

Moriarty took a step back. “Well that's unexpected.” He mused. 

_Sherlock stalked toward them, head tilted to one side and his teeth bared. He smirked and ran his tongue across his lips. "Come now, I'm not going to hurt you." He said with an audible hiss._

Eyes wide Mycroft stumbled back. He rounded on Moriarty, “Was this supposed to happen?" He demanded, his voice rising and starting to shake. 

Moriarty shrugged and scuffed his foot on the bare concrete floor. "I think I may have suppressed his emotions a little too much." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to face Mycroft. "Never mind, Live and let live?" “ 

_This momentary distraction in Moriarty's attention was just what Sherlock had been waiting for. He tensed before uncoiling to spring at Moriarty, wrapping his hands about the consulting criminal's throat. Slowly he began to apply pressure, enjoying the panic in Moriarty's eyes. "Thanks to you I have no sentiment or mercy. Now there is nothing to stop me killing you."_

"Sherlock this isn't you." Mycroft pleaded. "Don't do this." 

He was too late. With hardly any effort Sherlock punched a hand into Moriarty's chest. Revulsion rose in Mycroft's throat and he swallowed hard, turning his head away from what he knew his brother was about to do. In one smooth movement Sherlock pulled his hand back, Moriaty's still beating heart clutched between his fingers. Moriarty's eyes widened in shock and he opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came out but a choked gurgle and a trickle of blood oozing over his chin. 

Then the light in his eyes faded and he collapsed like a puppet whose strings have been cut. Sherlock stared at the heart before tossing it to one side; an unwanted toy. Mycroft tried not to wince at the splat it made hen it hit the floor and cowered down, terrified at the sight of his brother standing before him with blood dripping from his gore stained right hand. 

“Who are you?” Mycroft asked, backing further away from the horror in front of him until he could feel the wall behind him. 

_Sherlock smirked “Whatever do you mean Brother Dear? I'm still Sherlock”_

"No you're not" Mycroft said with a shake of his head. Somehow he had to find a way out of his predicament. An idea came to him and, careful not to advertise what he was doing to Sherlock, reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. Quickly he fired off a text to Lestrade. 

_Sherlock smiled, a dark twisted version of his old one. “My name Brother mine is Khan.” He twirled on the spot, his blood stained shirt flapping open at the collar to reveal his scar. "So what do you think of the new me? Are you impressed?" His eyes glinted darkly._

A shiver ran down Mycroft's spine. Whoever this Khan was he certaintly wasn't Sherlock. Even though he was watching Khan's every move he was unprepared for what happened next. In a single stride Khan was across the room and had dealt Mycroft a punishing blow across the chest. It sent him flying back to crash into the bars of the cage. There was a hollow snap of bone breaking and Mycroft cried out. 

_Khan's lips twitched up in a humourless grin. "Oops sorry Brother Mine." He growled before his eyes lit up. "I can't wait to see what John thinks of the new me. See you later Brother." He said with a lazy wave before turning his back and walking away._

Once Mycroft was sure Khan wasn't going to return he reached for his phone. It wasn't in his pocket and panic flared through him. Desperatly he looked round for it, trying to spot it and then he did. It was lying just out of his reach and he let out a pained gasp. Slowly he began to drag himself forward, gritting his teeth against the pain. Reaching forward he closed his hand around the phone and lay there for a moment, breathing heavily and trying not to cry at the sharp stabs in his chest. When he had recovered a little he scrolled through his contacts, searching for someone in particular. He hit the call button. 

"John, listen to me. Yes it's Mycroft. Listen to me, you are in danger John. Moriaty experimented on on Sherlock and turned him into a monster. Don't joke about this John, its deadly serious- Moriarty is dead. Yes really, I saw Sherlock tear out his heart myself. Be careful John, he's coming for you." He disconnected the call and slumped down, resting his cheek on the cold floor. A sigh escaped him, he should have done more to protect his brother. There was nothing he could do but wait until Lestrade came to find him. He hoped Sherlock wouldn't do anthing he would regret later in the meantime. 


	3. In control

I can't understand why people willingly choose to live in the city of London. Its too noisy and too large, I was already hopelessly lost and Sherlock wasn't being any help. He'd been ominously quiet for a while now and he was refusing to let me have access to the detailed mind maps he kept. I gritted my teeth and slammed my fist against a nearby wall. A nearby pedestrian jumped, glanced in my direction before quickly walking away. God, why was Sherlock being so damn annoying? I turned my attention inwards. 

"Look." I spat. "The quicker you help me the less pain I'll subject John Watson too when I get my hands on him." 

There was a moment of silence before Sherlock finally replied. "Oh yes threatening John's life is really going to make me want to co-operate." He sniffed, huddling further back into the dark corner I'd forced him into. 

I let out an annoyed sigh and continued walkign down the street. Having the equivilent of an alter-ego was exceedingly irritating and I couldn't wait to get rid of him. If I could crush him without hurting myself I would do it in a heartbeat but for now I would just have to put up with him. 

"I can hear you, you know." Sherlock said. "Keep that attitude up and I certaintly won't help you. Lestrade will soon work out what has happened and help me." 

"Or he'll just shoot you." I muttered under my breath, otherwise choosing to ignore him. Of course that doesn't mean however I'm going to turn my back on him because a cornered enemy is the most dangerous of all. Turning on my heel I stalked off down the street. The pavement was heaving with people but I simply pushed those directly in my path to one side. Several people turned to protest at their treatment but quickly dropped the idea when they took in my blood stained appearence and my emotionless black eyes and decided it was more important they walked away as fast as they could. I rolled my eyes. Humans are such pathetic creatures when one is in close proximity to them. I calculated I'd given Sherlock enough time to calm down and began gently probing his mind again for information. He responded by locking down barriers against me and growling under his breath. I cursed to myself. 

"Why are you being so difficult?" 

"What are you planning?" Sherlock counted sarcastically 

I massaged my forehead with my fingertips. I could feel a headache developing. "Something painful I could avoid if you'd co-operate." I hissed, my patience rapidly starting to wear out. 

A wave of worry emanateed from Sherlock followed by more silence as he tried to work out if I am bluffing. I rolled my eyes, it was time to give the detective a lesson. Gathering all my strength I charged headlong into Sherlock's mind, effortlessly pushing aside any resistance. He desperatly tried to put up a fight but soon fell beneath my assault. With hardly even had to work for it I had the information I needed. Sherlock winced under my crushing grip and huddled back into the only space I hadn't yet penetrated. 

“That could have been much easier and a lot less painful if you'd only worked with me.” 

I waited for a moment, wondering if Sherlock will make a smart comment but received nothing. Evidently my attack exhausted him. Never mind it would shut him up for a while. I turned my attention away from Sherlock in order to inspect the mind maps I had taken from him, marvelling at just how detailed they are. I suppose now I had no further use for Sherlock for now. Concentrating hard I shut down the part of my mind where he was cowering, putting up strong walls to keep him at bay. Sherlock let out a weak protest but it was too late. I was already free of him. 

* * * * 

Using several shortcuts I easily avoided the main roads where Sherlock's face potentially could be recognised and soon found myself turning into Baker Street. Cautiously I approached the familiar, to Sherlock at least, black door searching from side to side for any ambushes or traps but the coast appeared to be clear. Hopefully Mycroft hadn't had the foresight to warn John Watson but I couldn't just make that assumption and then go blindly rushing into trouble. A part of my deep down wanted to break down the door and snap John's neck before he could even comtemplate calling for help. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists. No, I wasn't there to kill him, just to teach Sherlock how it wasn't a good idea to get on my bad side. Shoving open the door I stepped into 221B's dull interior. 

"John, I'm home." I called, careful to inject the right degree of delighted emotion into my voice. 

No reply came and I silently crept up the stairs, all the while listening for any sign of life up ahead before flinging open the door of the flat. A deafening gunshot echoed through the hallway, the bullet striking me in the shoulder and sending me spinning back into the doorframe. An involuntary cry burst from me and I clutched at my shoulder, trying to stem the flow of blood. 

"What the hell as that?" Sherlock yelled, using the sudden jolt of pain to break free for a moment. He caught sight of the wound. "Shit, have I been shot?" 

I gasped and roughly shoved Sherlock back into the cage I had built for him. I had no patience to deal with him right now and putting him litrally out of mind was the only way I could cope right now. A snarl escaped me as I slowly walked forward into the flat. John backed up, his eyes wide with fear. A dull ache throbbed in my shoulder and when I tried to flex my hand I discovered it had become numb. John Watson was going to pay for this. I lunged towards him, my hands reaching for his throat but before my fingers can connect I found myself propelled backward. I lost my balance and crashed back into a shelf, books cascading to the floor around me. "For gods sake Sherlock! Go away!" I roared. From the corner of my eye I see a shocked expression spread across John's face. 

"What are you talking about?" He asked, his voice eager. "Mycroft told me Sherlock was gone." 

I remained silent as I considered how to reply. Did I allow him to believe his best friend was still alive or just crush his hopes completly? Either scenario would be fascinating to watch. Hhmmm, maybe it would be better to lead him on for a while before destroying him. "Mycroft was wrong. Sherlock is still here." I said, crossing my arms and grimacing when pain shot through the wound in my shoulder. A snarl escaped me. 

Instantly John's face lit up before dissolving into a frown. Reaching behind me I use the shelf to pull myself to my feet and brush dirt from my still wet shirt sleeves, some of the blood coming off on my hands. John inhales sharply and for a moment starts to reach out towards me , hesistating with his right hand stretched out in the space between us. I shook my head, how pathetic, and gripped his wrist in a tight grip. With a savage grin I twisted it sideways. John let out a cry of pain. 

Behind the barriers I had built Sherlock paced, growling. "Leave John alone, he's done nothing to you!" He cried mournfully, knowing he was helpless. 

I snarled loudly. Really nothing? He had shot me in the shoulder, something I wasn't going to forget anytime soon. I laughed darkly and in one swift movement I wrenched John's wrist sideways with a wet crunching sound as the bones snapped. John cried out and slumped to his knees, silent tears of pain coursing down his cheeks. A wave of anger came from Sherlock and I smiled, enjoying his helplesses to do nothing but watch as I hurt his friend. A stab of painful sensation seared through my mind and I pressed the tips of my fingers to my forehead. Damn it, he wasn't supposed to be fighting back. Gathering all his strength Sherlock somehow managed to break through the barriers and seize back control. 

**** 

I was exhausted, fighting Khan was requiring nearly all the strength I possesed. Surely it wasn't hurt to lay down and sleep for a few minutes. Blood continued to pulse from my wound in time with my heartbeat, sending frequent waves of dizziness crashing through me as I struggled to keep my eyes open. Judging by the amount I was losing I would soon slip into unconsciousness. Gritting my teeth I roughly shoved the thought aside, I couldn't lose control. I knew Khan would not hesistate to cease back possesion if he saw the chance. My gaze fell on John. He was cowering on the floor, his eyes wide and fearful as he stared up at me. Slowly I knelt next to him and went to gently touch his shoulder. I was horrified to see the damage Khan had inflicted upon him and wasn't suprised when he flinched away from my touch with a scared cry. Conflicting emotions boiled within me. Pity, worry and hatred. The last emotion burnt the most fierce and was directed at Moriarty and how he was responsible for this whole mess. I reached out towards John again and this time he hardly reacted, merely quivering rather than flinching. 

"John." I sniffed, a single tear coursing down my cheek. "I'm so sorry, I tried to stop him but he was too strong for me." The two of us had been through so much together that I felt comfortable revealing my emotions around him. He deserved that much after belieivng I was dead for three years. 

John glanced up at me, protectivly clutching his broken wrist to his chest. His eyes were wide open and full of uncertainty as he reached up and ran his fingers over my blood stained shoulder. Slowly he undid several of the buttons and peeled it gently away from my shoulder in order to inspect my wound. Throughout his examination I watched John's face and the emotions of uncertainty and shock that flashed across his face as he realised just how deep my wound was. His fingers fell away and he raised his eyes to mine. "We need to get you to a doctor." He said softly, unknotting my scarf from around my neck and tying it tightly around my shoulder to cut off the flow of blood. "Sorry." he murmured when I winced in pain. 

I gave him a small smile. "You're a doctor." I pointed out, my voice sounding a little weak. 

John let out a quiet, irritated sigh. "I meant a proper doctor with access to medical supplies. Not an ex army medic with a few bandages and thats it." He paused when I slumped to the ground and rested my head on my knees, my breaths coming in gasps. "Sherlock?" He asked uncertaintly. 

I held out my hand, palm out to ward him off. I decided to be honest with him. "I've been better. Fighting Khan and getting shot is exhausting." I said. I was aware of Khan probing and trying to find a weakness to exploit. Taking a deep breath I buried my head in my hands with a quiet groan. 

John shifted and half rose to his feet. "I'm getting you medical attention." He said, half turning to try and find the phone he knew was somewhere close by. He stopped when I reached out and gripped tightly to his sleeve. A small smile crept over his face and he bent down beside me again. "What's wrong?" 

I shook my head, unable to speak under the unstoppable battering I was recieving from Khan as he desperatly tried to escape. I closed my eyes and allowed myself to slip down into darkness. Surely it wouldn't hurt for just a few moments... 

**** 

Well that had been easy. I waited for a moment to see whether Sherlock would launch another attack but he remained silent. A smile crept onto my face, maybe I had finally beaten him at last. I let go of John Watson's arm with a quiet snort and brushed my hands together. Then I seized his chin between my thumb and forefinger. John's eyes widened and I sneered. How pathetic. "What's wrong John is how annoying Sherlock can be. Moriarty was right to improve me, I am better than him in every way." I said with a smirk. The smirk was wiped off my face when intense pain flooded through my head. I closed my eyes... 

Breathing heavily I rested my head back against the wall, that had been a close one. I glanced down and was shocked to find my hand almost around John's throat. With a shocked cry I let go. "Oh god." I moaned,no longer caring how I sounded. "I think Khan's winning, I don't know how much longer I can keep fighting him." 

John wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulder. I sighed and laid my head on his chest, comforted by his closeness. "Don't say that Sherlock. You're stronger than you think." 

A humourless smile escaped me. John had no idea how difficult it was becoming to keep Khan contained and at bay. Darkness flickered at the edges of my vision and a quiet groan forced its way between my gritted teeth. Suddenly reality felt far away, as though seperated from me by a curtain. I felt someone shaking me and came to to find him staring at me with a worried expression. Dimly I heard footsteps thundering up the stairs outside before the door is flung open by a wild eyed Lestrade. He blinked against the dullness of the room and reached over to switch on the lamp nearest to him. 

John sighed in relief and loosed his grip on me slightly but his brows furrowed when he noticed the gun Lestrade was holding. "Is that really nessacary?" John demanded. 

Lestrade continued to do nothing but stand in the doorway and stare, uncertainty clouding his features. I remained completly still, knowing any sudden move from me would startle Lestrade and possibly cause him to pull the trigger. "But Mycroft told me that Khan was dangerous." He said, sounding confused. "And yet here I find you hugging him." He almost sounded hurt. 

I rolled my eyes and moved slightly to the right, letting out a quiet cry when the movement wrenched my shoulder. Lestrade stuffed his gun in his back pocket, after making sure that the safety was on, and walked over to us. He raised a concerned eyebrow. 

"What happened? Where's Khan? Should I call an ambulance?" All of this is babbled in a single breath. 

John swallowed loudly and leant away from me. An expression of guilt flashed briefly across his face when he goes to address Lestrade. Technically he has no reason to feel guilty because of the small fact that I tried to kill him. "Khan tried to kill me and I paniced and shot Sherlock by accident." He said, hugging me tighter before changing the subject. "How is Mycroft? He sounded of when I talked to him earlier." 

"Mycroft's fine. He has a dislocated shoulder and three cracked ribs but it could have been much worse if Khan had been trying harder." Lestrade replied thoughtfully. 

A shudder ran down my back. Even though I was unable to remember it I knew that Khan had come very close to killing my brother. The knowledge sent a wave of remorse crashing through me, almost overwelming me. I let out a gasp and buired my head in John's shoulder. He smiled sadly and began to gently stroke my back, murmuring small nonsense sounds of comfort the whole time. I half expected Lestrade to make a comment but instead he appeared focused on searching in the pockets of his jacket for something. 

After several sceonds had passed he pulled out a syringe with a small, triumphent laugh. "This is the anti-dote to whatever chemicals Moriarty injected Sherlock with. I discovered it while we were searching the facility." He explained. 

The anti-dote was a bright shimmering blue and glimmered brightly in the dim light of the lamps. Gingerly so as not to jostle me John stretched out a hand and took it. A smile spread across his face and I saw a spark of hope ignite in his eyes. "Thankyou Greg, this means a lot." 

Lestrade dissmissively waved his hand, as though trying to show that no thanks was needed, and gave John a tired grin. "Its nothing John. Sherlock is my friend too you know." 

Despite the pain I was in a small laugh escaped me. "I never knew you felt that way Graham." Lestade glared at me while John shook his head in merriment. I supposed I should have known Khan would use a moment of weakness such as this to try and seize back control. Inside the dark corners of my mind I felt him move into the lighter areas and begin to force me back. The pain that flared was the worst I had experienced yet, so intense that it caused white lights to burst before my eyes. I cried out, knowing this time was the last and that after this Khan would be completly in control. 

John laid a hand on my forehead. "Sherlock, Sherlock?!" He cried, his voice frantic. I tried to reply but found Khan blocking him. "I think we're loosing him Greg!" 

Lestrade didn't even pause to consider his next move. In one fluid movement he snatched the syringe from John and stuck it into my arm, depressing the plunger and sending the anti-dote flowing into my veins. In my head Khan screamed out curses and lashed out my arm, catching Lestrade across the chest and sending him flying across the room. It was already too late. Before Khan can do anything else darkness descended and I knew no more. 


	4. A happy ending?

Inside 221B Baker Street the atmosphere was strained as John and Mycroft stared into space, both of them uncomfortably aware Sherlock was fighting for his life in the room next door. They knew that if Khan won this time there would be no getting Sherlock back. Because of the uncertainty of the outcome no one was allowed to be beside the detective for the sake of safety. To make sure no one broke this rule Lestrade stood, arms folded, with his back against the wall. He shifted a little when John abruptly stood up but relaxed when it became apparent he was simply stretching his legs by pacing around the cluttered living room, narrowly avoiding stepping on Sherlock's microscope in the middle of the floor. 

John's face was serious, if Khan won he would kill him despite the fact he was in Sherlock's body. A single tear ran down his cheek and he hastily brushed it away. Startled by the movement Mycroft jerked round. When he saw it was just John he allowed himself a tired, weary smile which John returned. Mycroft looked awful which wasn't surprising considering the treatment he'd experienced at Khan's hands. There were black shadows beneath his eyes, he face was sickly grey colour and he winced everytime he breathed. He felt responsible for what had happened to his brother, after all if he had protected him better Moriarty would never have gotten his hands on him. From the room next door there came a scream of pain and Mycroft winced, burying his head in his hands. 

For a moment John stopped pacing and laid a reassuring hand on Mycroft's shoulder. "It'll be okay. Sherlock is strong enough to beat Khan." 

Mycroft lifted his head and smiled weakly. Silence settled over the room again, broken only by the scuffing of John's feet on the carpet as he glumly continued to pace and the ticking of the clock. Before they realised it half an hour had passed. John sighed loudly and clenched his fists. He didn't know if he take this much longer, the waiting was killing him. He couldn't just stand here while his friend went through mental torment as he tried to fight Khan for control. 

"I have to check on him." He cried, walking with quick strides to the door Lestrade was guarding. "Please Greg." 

Lestrade however shook his head, his expression sorrowful. "I'm sorry John, its too dangerous. What happens if Khan is waiting behind that door? He'd kill you as soon as he laid eye on you." He protested. 

John's face fell. He knew Lestrade was right but also knew that Sherlock needed him, that was all that mattered to him. "He needs me Lestrade." He said in a low voice. "He's hurting and I need to be there beside him." As if on cue Sherlock screamed again, louder this time, and Lestrade winced. He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Then to John's delight he reluctantly stepped aside to let him pass. 

"Fine but if you get into trouble you're on your own." Lestrade calmly explained as he sat in John's recently vacated armchair, exchanging a glance with the eldest Holmes brother as he did so. 

"Thankyou." John gasped. He surged forward and flung open the door, hesistating for a moment on the threshold before rushing inside. Despite his outward show of bravery he was afraid of what he would find and crept towards the bed on tiptoe. "Sherlock?" He asked, keeping his voice soft. "Are you awake?" His entire body was on edge as he waited for an answer. 

"John?" The voice was weak and didn't have the cruel edge that Khan's did. 

John relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief. "Oh Sherlock." He said. There was however still a small doubt at the back of his head and he leant over to switch on the bedside lamp. Sherlock blinked in the sudden brightness, allowing John to see that his eyes were their normal blue rather than the black they had been when Khan was in control. "Thank goodness it's you." He cried joyfully, throwing his arms around his friend and hugging him tightly. He felt Sherlock wince and he pulled away. He frowned. "What's wrong?" 

Sherlock managed a weak grin. "I'm still feeling a little delicate. Khan was rather rough in his dying moments." 

John's eyes widened. "Is he really gone then?" He asked hopefully. 

The detective peered closely at his friend, noting how his cheeks were pale and his eyes were heavy; both signs he hadn't been sleeping very well. His ehart went out to him and he gathered John into a close hug, smiling when he stiffened in surprise. Sure he tried hard to supress his emotions but that didn't mean he couldn't show them sometimes. "Yes he's gone, its all over." 

They remained in each others embrace until they were interrupted by a quiet cough from the doorway. Both of them gave a violent start and leapt away from each other. "I'm not interrupting anything am I?" Mycroft asked from where he was leaning on the doorframe looking amused. 

John saw a dark shadow drift across Sherlock's face and for a moment feared that Khan had somehow managed to return. Instead a tear dripped down Sherlock's cheek. Still concerned for his friend he reached over to stroke his shoulder. "I'm so sorry Brother. "Sherlock said, hanging his head. "I never wanted you to get hurt." He sighed before letting out a huge yawn. 

Mycroft gazed affectionatly at his brother. "I'll be fine, it wasn't your fault." He murmured with a smile. "I'll leave you to rest now. I am sure John is more than capable of looking after you." He said in a low voice, not wanting to disturb the half asleep and very dopey looking Sherlock. "I'll return tomorrow first thing to check on him." With that he turned and left, leaving John and Sherlock alone once more. 

Once he had gone John tenderly pushed a lock of Sherlock's hair back behind his ear from where it had fallen. The movement disturbed Sherlock and he murmured sleepily and relaxed back against John, fisting his hands into his jumper. He smiled. "Go to sleep Sherlock, I'm here." He whispered as Sherlock's breathing slowed and deepened. 

* * * * 

Just before Sherlock surrended completly into the silence of sleep he could have sworn he heard a quiet voice drift from the dark, forgotten corners of his mind. He dismissed it as nothing but a dream. 

From where he lurked Khan allowed himself a brief moment of truimph. The detective had absolutely no idea he was there. He rubbed imaginary hands together, he could have fun with this. "Pleasant dreams Sherlock, we'll meet again soon." He said before settling down to wait... 


End file.
